


The Novelty of It

by sepia_cigarettes



Series: Lessons [2]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10498779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepia_cigarettes/pseuds/sepia_cigarettes
Summary: After being the Beast for so long, Adam is trying to be his best for Belle. It's working, surprisingly.





	

The first thing Adam does is kiss Belle. There are ones to her lips, soft and welcoming, and her nose, and her cheeks, and her jaw, and her ears. He says _I love yous_ wherever he can fit them between kisses, although talking isn’t high up on his priority list just yet. He didn’t think it was possible to enjoy someone so much, but right now he’s drowning.

“My darling,” he murmurs when they finally stop.

“What should I call you?” she asks, cupping his face, searching his eyes and smiling.

It’s odd, the fact that they never addressed this before now, when they spent so much time together. He doesn’t mind being called Beast, not by her, but her eyes are imploring.

“Adam. My first name is Adam.”

 

They don’t get married straight away, despite Lumiere’s complaints.

“But, my prince! Surely you have waited long enough?”

He probably has, but he isn’t going to be selfish, not anymore. Despite living with him before, Belle isn’t nearly as comfortable with being waited on like a royal, and he doesn’t want to chase her away by asking for her hand in marriage immediately. Not again.

Instead he joins her in the library the next day whilst the outside world is whited out with rain, and helps her hold books, secretly judging each one as she adds them. The changed height difference is rather annoying, and he’s had to learn how to balance properly again, but it’s not so bad.

“What about this one?” she asks.

“Do you like it?” he says, and Belle nods, and Adam feels like his heart will burst. “Then yes, start with it.”

“Is that your honest opinion?” she teases. “It is a romance, after all.”

Then she skims her fingers over his hand, and he kisses her instead.

It’s a while before they get around to reading the book.

 

“I love your eyes the most,” Belle says one night when they’re eating dinner together.

She says it like she’s talking about the rain outside, and he almost chokes on his soup. She laughs behind her hand, before extending her napkin towards him.

He takes it gratefully. “You have a way with words, Belle.”

“Well, one would hope all this reading had some effect.” She pauses, then goes, “I say that because of how expressive they are.”

He rolls his eyes, catches himself proving her right, and groans, embarrassed. She gives him a triumphant look, arches her brow when he sticks his tongue out at her. He was born a prince, but he was a beast for far longer, and those tendencies haven’t left him just yet, so table manners can be damned.

“Don’t be such a child,” she teases.

Adam stands and twines their fingers together, before drawing her to the balcony. She gives him a funny look, then happily meets his kiss.

They stay like that for longer than Adam cares to remember.

There are storm clouds on the horizon, sheet lightning in the distance, and Adam doesn’t think he’s ever felt more nauseous.

“Marry me, Belle?” he says, holding her close, chest feeling pained.

“You took your time,” she retorts, brushing their noses together.

 

They have a row. Belle feels uncomfortable with all the gifts that arrive to the castle upon the world hearing of their engagement.

“This is what you’re marrying into,” Adam argues. “I can’t change who I am.”

“It’s ridiculous,” she responds. “It’s not like you don’t have sufficient belongings already.”

“They’re for you.”

“How?” Belle lifts up one of the gowns. “They’re beautiful, but what am I going to do with all of these things?”

“You will be a princess, a queen,” he frowns when she places it carefully back. “You can’t always wear the one dress.”

“And why not?”

 _Because it’s not done_ , he thinks, but Belle has never been one to follow tradition; she’s brave and headstrong and well ahead of their time, and the extravagance of his lifestyle is overwhelming to anyone so he understands a little.

She glares at him and leaves the room, and Adam vents his frustrations in the armoury.

“Is it really such a big deal?” he says later, after giving her a new book he procured from Germany as a peace offering.

“No,” she says. “But I won’t turn into one of _them_.”

“Never,” he disagrees. “You’re far too intelligent for that.” Then he adds, “I wouldn’t let you, anyway. _You_ wouldn’t.”

He eyes soften at that, and a small smile graces her lips. It’s not a victory, but it’s not a loss either, and he kisses her hand and listens to her read to him.

 

Adam didn’t think Belle could be any more beautiful than when he danced with her for the first time. He was wrong. So very wrong.

The white dress curls around her in layers with gold filigree, and there are small flowers in her hair.

Adam’s heart is in his throat.

“Are you unwell?”

 _Yes_ , Adam thinks, _unwell with love_ , but he doesn’t voice it. Instead he takes her hand in his and follows the minister.

 

He sings to her on their wedding night, quietly. It’s an old tune, one Mrs Pott’s sang to him when he was younger. Belle is sitting next to the fireplace, dressed in a loose robe, hair freed from its intricate style of the day. She looks the opposite to how Adam feels: calm, and at peace.

He’s never been so aware of his heartbeat before.

He kneels next to her, notes the way she raises a brow when he grasps her hand in his.

“You know I love you,” he says quietly.

It is her turn to kiss him. It starts out slowly, gently, like they’re both afraid of breaking an invisible bubble. Belle’s hands smooth over his torso and across his stomach, and then Adam feels her tongue dart into his mouth momentarily.

Something snaps.

The kisses are deeper now, and quicker. He isn’t an idiot, he knows how it works, but he doesn’t want to screw up before they’ve even begun.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers, and Adam wonders again at her brilliance.

He’s glad they changed their vows from traditional ones; there isn’t any question that they depend on each other equally.

Belle’s mouth is on his, then his cheek, then his collarbone. He catches her in another deep kiss and walks them towards the bed, before purposefully resting his hand on the fastening of her robe. She looks at him with far more confidence than he thought possible, and it makes him feel uncharacteristically shy.

“Is this alright?”

“Of course.”

Of course. He steels himself and undoes the robe, allows it to fall open. She kisses him before he can think too much, pushing at his own shirt, and then it’s just skin and skin and skin, and Adam can’t think at all.

Belle approaches sex like it’s a book to study: slowly, thoroughly, meticulously.

She weaves her hands into his hair, presses up into him and wraps her silky legs around his waist. She’s wet and warm and inviting, and she’s right _there_ , and Adam’s trying to take his time because he doesn’t want it to be over yet, but she’s making it incredibly difficult.

He takes her mouth again in his, kisses her hungrily and trails a careful hand down her body. She’s so warm as she guides him inside and lets him move his thumb experimentally on the fleshy outside.

“How is that?” he asks, anxious to know if it feels good.

She laughs then, a high breathy laugh that dissolves into an even more pleasurable sound when he shifts his hand, and he wonders if he’ll actually make it inside her before finishing.

Eventually Belle answers the question for him, wrapping delicate hands around him and stroking. He groans, presses his forehead to her shoulder, sure he will finish, before she settles in his lap.

“I think I’m ready. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m about to explode,” he says truthfully and she laughs again.

Time, he thinks, is key, and Belle doesn’t rush anything, lets him breach her at her own pace. He never got the chance to do this when he was younger all those years ago, but it feels exquisite. He tries telling her, about how it’s his first time, and how he’s glad it’s with her, but only manages a disbelieving laugh when her thighs are flush with his.

It’s a gentle rock, like the sway of a ship in Spring. It’s all he can do to not grasp her hips and thrust up and take and revel in the snug feel of her. Instead he sucks kisses onto her throat, runs his free hand through her hair and tugs.

“Still alright?” he checks as she moves, and when she nods, he wraps his arm around her waist and turns them over, positions her on the pillows and then pushes back in.

Belle clenches down and he growls accidentally, has to brace himself on his hands to stop from falling on her when she gasps into his mouth.

Then she does the movement again, and Adam can’t help but keep growling after that. Their rhythm is haphazard because and their kisses are messy at best, but Adam doesn’t care, especially when Belle cries out and tightens even more, and then he’s finishing, roaring uncontrollably, hips stuttering.

 

“Are you quite right, my darling?” he asks in the morning.

There is a sun shower outside, and Belle looks radiant like this, swathed in blankets, sleep still in her eyes.

“I am. Did you enjoy it?”

He’s shy again. “You know I did.”

Adam looks out the window, to the sun stretching itself across the land. Downstairs he can hear the servants starting up the household for the day. His chest feels tight.

“Thank you, for your patience with me.”

"Always," she smiles at him, and draws him into an embrace as the rain starts to ease.

 

Adam has his coronation a week after the wedding. Belle wears a white dress again, embroidered with roses, and keeps her hand in his during the ceremony. Adam looks to her when she is crowned, falters when they’re meant to turn around.

They dance afterwards, circling each other in the centre of the castle staff. Maurice stands on the outskirts, painting a portrait. He’s a talented artist. Adam has already commissioned him to add a piece to the entrance hall.

Belle is watching him with that funny smile of hers, like he’s doing something she likes.

“What?” he says. “What is it?”

“How would you feel about growing a beard?”

Adam laughs and growls at her, loving the way her cheeks redden and she goes straight into a curtsey. He laughs with her, twirls her, draws her close and breathes her in.

He’s never going to get used to her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for bearing with me! I wrote this in a day after seeing BATB the second time so it's a bit haphazard and rushed but I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
